


Unrelatable

by solar_celeste



Series: DNA [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Damian is three, I might make this a series?, I tried to make this unique, Jason is Damian Wayne's biological dad, hopefully it becomes less confusing, then six, then ten
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-06
Updated: 2019-03-27
Packaged: 2019-11-13 01:28:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18022208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solar_celeste/pseuds/solar_celeste
Summary: Jason is Damian’s biological father.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BatSnacks24](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BatSnacks24/gifts).



> Background:
> 
> Instead of deeming the Batman the most qualified to father her son, Talia see’s a spark in Jason Todd, while rehabilitating him, that she wishes her son to have. Sedating the man and doing the deed is the easy part, the hard part comes later. Hiding the new demons head proves much more difficult than Talia had anticipated and before she knows it, a friend of her lovers, Roy if she recalls, catches word of a new baby among the assassins. They say he has Gotham blood. They say he has black hair, and a smile that will steal your heart. It’s not long before attack is led, there are arrows, and fiery hair, and an enraged father. Talia would be lying to say she fought full power, Damian Todd, goes home. Watch out Gotham.

“ Baba?” Small feet pitter out of the extra bedroom, where a small sleeping pad and blanket resides among the waterlogged floors. The sound continues as the source makes it’s way down the hall, moonlight seeping in through cracked and dirt speckled windows. 

Soon to be midnight, meaning Damian Peter Todd, because Jason had been a sentimental drunk shit when he signed the papers, will be three in four short minutes. 

The apartment is silent, so much so it sounds abandoned.

The small, premature feet make their way down the hall. There, is a flickering light that illuminates the tattered couch and shattered TV screen, the aroma of alcohol fills the air. 

“ Baba?” The feet make their way over to the couch, stepping on the glass shards of broken liquor bottles. “ Ouchie!” 

Tears well in the little boys eyes, but he continues to pick his way to the couch where the peacefully sleeping form lies.

“ Baba?” A little hand smacks a much larger arm. “ Baba up?” 

There is no response.

 

____________________________________

 

The sound of a television left running fills the otherwise quiet. Soft snores echo through a long hallway, one set coming from a couch, another, from a small bed. 

Meer moments later, one of the sets stops, the other continues, the disruption undetected. The rustling of blankets follows, then, the small patter of little feet, first on soft carpet, then, on hard wood.

It is four minutes until midnight.

“ Baba?” A question, a name asked timidly. It is a voice from a boy that has been through too much, asking for a man who is his last and only hope. 

The toddler, after hearing no response, continues torwards the only source of noise in the house. A small Tv, set on a stand that looks it as it has been newly dusted. Near it, a red couch, throw pillows supporting the head of the man in question. 

A plastic water bottle, sitting loose in a hand limp with sleep. 

“ Baba?” The question is asked again, as the corner of the throw rug lifts, and catches on a small foot. A large hand reaches out just in time to stop any impact with the unforgiving floor.

“ Dames?” The voice is laced in drowsiness and laden with confusion. “ What are you doing up?” The toddler in question peers up with striking, baby blue eyes. Dark lashes brush his tan and rosy cheeks, inflated with baby fat as they will remain for many years to come. Equally small hands, fitting for the size of the boy, reach out. Tiny fingers clench and grab in and out, in and out.

The sight puts an unstoppable smile on Jason’s face.

“ Baba up?” 

Giggles fill the air as the clock strikes midnight. Three years, only two since Talia, but that is two years of raising Damian. Of raising his son.

That is two years of Jason not being his father.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damian is six.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ll take a fic request from whoever finds the RHFS quote first AND can tell me what episode it’s from (don’t overthink it).

Living in Gotham is all Jason ever knew. The only difference there was to him was the worn shack his parents owned and the brief time he spent living in the stately Wayne manor. He wasn’t much a fan of either. Both rubbed him the wrong way. While living with Bruce, he had always thought, if given the option, would he really want to spend all his money on his home? Sure, Jason supposed he would put in a nice amount, just enough to make him and whoever else comfortable, but that much? It always seemed like a waste.

 

Besides, Jason wanted to travel.

 

Seeing the world was something that he had always dreamed of. Coming from the narrows, dreams seemed to be the farthest that wish would come. He guessed it was only fitting he conceived a child in another country.

 

He guessed all of his own experiences was why he was doing everything that he was for the kid.

 

He had not wanted children. That had been something that he had promised himself at a very young age. There was nothing that he despised himself more for than being responsible for Damian’s life. The whole Todd line had been horrible at raising their children, generation after generation of failure. Their would be no difference for him.

 

Having your five year old run around an alcohol free home changes your perspective.

 

Five almost six. Damian’s birthday was in exactly 30 minutes, a day Jason always strived to make special for his little boy. A day he had always wished had been special for him.

 

“ Baba!” A shriek rings throughout the halls as little feet coming wrecking down the hall like a bull in china shop. Good thing all breakables had been removed from the premises years ago.

 

Earlier every year, Damian would get up from bed and search for Jason, sure to spend the minute he ages with the person he loves most.

 

“ Baba! Is it time yet? Am I six yet? Am I?” The little boy bounces onto the living room couch, black hair tousled with disrupted sleep and eyes wild with excitement.

 

“ No baby, not yet.” The glare the statement receives is harsh, and sharp enough to cut diamond. Jason’s been torn between wanting to rid his son of the habit, one he must have adopted during his brief year at the league, or ignore the fire beneath it and focus more on its immense adorableness.

 

So far, he’s chosen the last.

 

He grabs the second Narnia book, they’ve been reading the series together, and only manages to get about five minutes through before Damian asks again: “ Am I six now?” Jason smiles, holding in his chuckle as to not offend his overly sensitive son.

 

“ No kid, not yet.” He says, closing the book. Even if he did continue to read, Damian was to excited to listen and we just have to reread tomorrow.

 

“ Then when?” Damian’s exasperated thump into the couch finally bring Jason’s chuckle through his lips.

 

“ About twenty minutes kiddo, don’t rush it, this is the last time you’ll ever be five!” He’s trying to distract Damian now, get him talking about something other than the time.

 

“ I know _that,_ but I don’t want to be five. I want to be old! Like you!” The childish innocence in the statement makes Jason laugh, instead of feeling the insult that lies in the comment.

 

“ I’m twenty two, kiddo.” He says, ruffling the boys hair.

 

“ Yeah!” Damian says, like he’s the adult and Jasons the stubborn five year old. “ Old!”

 

“ Hey! I’ll have you know, Uncle Dickie is even _older_ than me.” The makes Damian pause, looking up at his father with confusion.

 

“ He is?” He asks. Jason smiles, the distraction worked.

 

“ Yup! He’s twenty six.” Says Jason smugly.

 

In response Damian’s jaw drops, his small baby teeth showing. Jason takes a peek at the clock.

 

“ Look at that Dames! Ten minutes!” Damian screeches as Jason cringes at the sound. The pair makes their way to their apartments small kitchen table, where a green cupcake and candle had already been set up, just like every other year previously.

 

“ What do you want to do tomorrow?” Jason asks, already knowing the answer.

 

“ Zoo!” Damian yelps, bouncing in his seat with his legs tucked beneath him.

 

“ Whatever you say, kid.” Jason laughs, patting the kids small shoulder as Damian smiles giddily. He remembers a similar time, when he himself was only a little older than Damian. He had been walking around his neighborhood, escaping his horror show of a house, when he spotted a child’s birthday party through an old window. A mom, a dad, and a couple other kids gathered around a small table as they sang happy birthday to the little girl at the center. His heart had ached, and he had felt a little creepy intruding, but he had watched. He had needed to see, even just once, what he was missing out on. 

 

Now, his is life was much different. Because as the clock chimes midnight and Jason smiled down at the little boy who’s made everything bad in his life worth it, Damian is able to blow out his own candles.

**Author's Note:**

> I know this is kind of weird so far, if its not what you wanted, just let me know.


End file.
